


Waltzing Fusion

by Birdfluff



Series: Fusing Mercenaries [3]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dancing, Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 18:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5174120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdfluff/pseuds/Birdfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dancing seems to be the most logical step to fusing but the mercs aren't quite thrilled about this development.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waltzing Fusion

This was incredibly out of Scout's comfort zone and they were only thirty minutes in. The longest thirty minutes of his life. He could be doing anything he really enjoyed right now. Practicing his swing and aim, _that_ was fun. Going to an arcade to crush little kids' high scores, _that_ was fun. Learning the waltz with another man was indeed _not_ fun... at all. Miss Pauling's words still hung in the air. It's to practice, she had said, to fuse. Waltzing is an simple, and can be a short dance to learn and easy to add on to. Once you are more comfortable with dancing you can 'spice' it up with your own style. 

A quick dance to do on the battlefield in order to fuse.

The batter wasn't even comfortable in the slightest, in fact most of the mercs weren't. They knew how to dance, in their own way, but _dance_ with a romantic song in the background with another man. That in a whole was something to sink in, but Miss Pauling did not allow complaining so the only noise in the room was the music and occasionally her voice to call out the beat. This dance was unfamiliar and strange to them. The only ones who already knew what waltzing even was had been Medic and Spy but that didn't mean that would be left out in this lesson. Scout himself knew how to waltz, but that was a long time ago from when he actually did and those were memories he didn't want to resurface.

“1, 2, 3--1, 2, 3 and spin--” Her voice and an abrupt thud pushed him out of his thoughts. He drew his attention back over to the two dancing, Solly and Engie, the Texan was now on his rear, dazed.

“Not.. that hard, Soldier, uh, you two take five,” she scanned her clipboard as she reset the gramophone's needle to the beginning of the song, “Spy, Sniper, you're both next.”

By the look of his face alone, Sniper was ready to take a knife and commit murder and if Spy was going to be stabbed then the batter was definitely okay with that. The two stood up and switched with Soldier and Engineer.

“Straighten your back, bushman,” the Frenchman commanded, gazing at him in disgust at his poor posture.

Growling low the rifleman obeyed and placed his hands in the appropriate positions while other did the same.

“Ready? … Start.” With a small whirl of displeasure from the old machine it the music began once more. Spy lead the dance swiftly, leaving the Aussie to try and catch up with his strides. The broad square motions were clunky, since they were force to keep eyes locked on one another's faces... that and Sniper was a klutz when dancing, Scout knew this well. 

“You are too stiff, loosen up,” he demanded again, shaking his arm slightly.

His eyes rolled behind his shades, “Alright, _mom_.”

This was a task that was difficult to relay. It was out of habit for him to be stiff from discomfort. He loosened his arm and grip like he was rudely instructed as they formed another square.

Miss Pauling's voice could be heard over the music, “1, 2, 3-- spin.”

The assassin took his hand to spin his partner around once and the rifleman's foot landed on his rather forcefully. 

“Sorry about that, mate,” he was vainly resisting to smile.

“You are not,” Spy shot back with a grimace, “I hope that was not on purpose.” 

The marksman said nothing in reply. Reluctantly they continued on without further delay until the music ceased. The woman in purple finished writing notes on the piece of paper before restarting the song again.

“Good but Sniper? Can you try not to be so rigid next time?”

“I can try,” The Aussie was able to relax his body after separating from his partner and his eyes traveled over to the Bostonian, who gave him a reassuring thumbs up. That was fine for his first try but of course there's always room for improvement.

“Ok, next... Scout. Medic.”

_Fuck._

Why did she have to pair him with Medic? Heavy would have been suitable enough for the doctor but no, it had to be him. It was better than being paired... anyone else really. Well maybe Sniper would have been good, since they had danced before but... The batter shook himself out of the clouds and stood up. As if they were on a tag team Scout and Sniper slapped one another's hands before the Aussie took his spot while the Bostonian walked towards the center.

Peeling his eyes away, he found himself next to the German. Being this close to his teammate was new and unusual, and knowing how weird the doctor was about his personal space made his chest pinch when he pulled the batter closer. He took his hand and his other on his back. They were only a foot apart now and the starting stance was nearly complete.  
Medic didn't have that goofy smile, instead there was a thin stern line. His cool collected eyes upon his figure. An unfamiliar twitch in his heart caused him to silently gulp. Hesitantly he placed his hand in the correct position. He wanted so badly to pull away, complain, run, get the hell out of here but he rather not be reprimanded by Spy or worse Miss Pauling in front of everyone else. He didn't want to make an idiot of himself than he did on most days. The music began to play after a that teeth grinding whirl from the old complaining gramophone.

Immediately and out of nowhere Scout led the dance, surprising the doctor. The square motions were smooth and brisk. They were completely on point with the music that Pauling didn't have to count.

“Scout, I had no idea you were so familiar with this,” Medic commented, an impressed yet small grin crawled onto his features.

“Uh, yeah, me neither,” he replied shortly, begging not to linger on the subject. Sadly he couldn't hide his face, turn away, anything; his eyes were forced to be on his partner's face. He couldn't hide the sudden warmth that crept onto his cheeks. He needed something to concentrate on. The music and dancing was out of the question since his body was basically on autopilot.

Deeply he inhaled to clear his mind and... smelled something... something... sweet...?

He tried not to make his breathing obvious in front of the doctor, who seemed not to notice a thing. He was grinning that dorky grin, clearly in awe at the younger man's knowledge. It smelled like a candy, the batter couldn't put his finger on. He twirled the German before resting his hand on his back once again. Now it tickled his nose with a bittersweet scent. It took him a moment before noticing that the doctor was actually pretty close to him...

Oh god, the smell was Medic. It was what Medic was wearing... he smelled amazing. This was not something to realize right now in front of seven mercs and Miss Pauling.

Quickly he threw his attention on the song which was slowly drawing to an end, bringing relief to his mind. He spun the doctor once more right as the song stopped, stepping away from his partner with their hands still clasped. His body facing towards their audience, his foot behind the other and he bowed. He had no idea whether or not his partner was doing the same; he didn't care either way.  
He was done. 

He was still holding his teammate's soft hand. It took him only now to realize how nice and soft his hand was without those rubber gloves on. So gentle to the touch. His grip wasn't tight like he thought it would be. So sweet an—he retracted his hand before his thoughts could escalate any further.

_Goddammit, I'm digging in own grave here._

Straightening back up he winced from everyone's eyes on them... no, not them. Him. This was the first any of his teammates looked at him in an impressed manner which stunned him to actually see such expressions directed at him. It wouldn't last long however but this was a stunning, amazing thing for the egotistical batter to revel in. He let himself smile. Maybe those strict dance lessons finally paid off... Pyro was the only one who clapped in an excited fashion for them.

The lady clad in purple slowly spoke, “That was great. Good job, you guys. I think that's a positive note to end this on, unless anyone wants to continue?” 

A rise of disagreement responded.

She coughed back a laugh, “Alright, but keep practicing.”

The other mercs wisely decided to leave and not full the young man's self confidence anymore than they have already. He would he talking nonstop for hours if they stopped paying attention to him now, however Medic was too curious.

“Scout, forgive me for prying but when did you learn to dance like that? That was astounding.”

His felt his face growing warmer but he smiled, clearly the doctor was fulling his ego inadvertently. He completely forgot his past discomfort for the topic which in turn the emotion had been replaced by eager, “Sure, Doc. My ma got me taking dance lessons to wear me out when I was in junior high, since I could never settle down at school. The lessons were so frickin early in the morning and the teacher was strict as all hell too. He hated me the most, out of all of his students because of how energetic I was. Threatening to do everything if we move an inch out of line. He was the worst teacher to have, I don't think he even liked kids. Scared the crap out of all of us. Anyway, I learned a lot of dances, foxtrot, the Charleston, polka, and all that stuff. Even taught foreign dances, like uh, land-ler?”

“Ländler,” Medic corrected his butchered pronunciation of the word. 

“Yeah that, and uh, Mer-eng-ue, I forget all the others, been so long. My ma finally pulled me out of his class when he stopped our recital when he saw one of the kids out of line, not me, and threw a fit. Heh, I never thought I'd be waltzing again. I hated learnin' that dance.”

“Really? You were so fluid in your movement.”

“Hah, yea, well, when you get pushed to practicing for most of your free time so you don't get yelled at it kind of imprints in ya.”

“Mm, thank you in any case,” That smile, that dumb gleeful smile. Why did he like seeing it? “Is there any way I can persuade you to show me more from your lessons?”

Scout's mind probably shouldn't have gone the places it did. Quickly he retaliated, trying to keep his cool, “Uh, didn't know you were that interested in dancin', doc but um, nah, not right now, maybe later.” 

_Maybe never. Make your dumbass face like a tree and get out of here._

“Yes, in a later date, excuse me,” The Bostonian watched him leave the rec room, unbuttoning his long coat that fluttered behind him. Once he finally left he released the breath he had no idea he was holding.

“...I think the doc was flirting with you,” a husky Aussie voice suddenly breathed in his ear, causing the batter to squeal and stagger away in surprise. 

“Jesus, man, don't do that! I-I thought you left-- What what?!”

He glowered at the older man who bit back his smile, “That noise you just made--”

Scout punched his arm leaving his sentence unfinished, “I'm sorry!”

“Sure as hell you are,” before he could take a step the marksman caught him by the arm.

“Wait, hold your horses, mate, want t' ask you something.”

“Yeah, what?”

He pulled his collar down slightly, hesitant in speaking, “Is it at all possible if you could help me practice? I think, you'd probably a better teacher than ol' dance instructor or Spook.”

Unexpectedly his face brightened up, placing an arm over his shoulders, “Fuck yeah I would, hell, I'd be so much better than them! I'll show ya tomorrow, it won't be any thinkg like—ah,” the Bostonian clicked his heels together and placed a hand on his chest as if fixing a tie, mimicking Spy's usual stance, and continued in a horrible French accent, “Straighten your back, bushman! I'm not going to danze wit chu if your posture iz zhat of a giraffe.” 

Their laughter echoed throughout the room.


End file.
